What if I don’t want to learn?
What if I don’t want to be “patient,” to play the safe, careful game?
What if I want to spit in the face of wisdom, burn the handbook, and throw myself into the fire again — just because my heart sings?
Safety?
What the fuck is safety?
We are all dying, every second, cells collapsing, clocks ticking.
Safety is just a padded coffin.
A lie told to keep men docile, obedient, weak.
No.
I don’t want safety.
I want chaos.
I want risk.
I want to gamble my whole existence like a mad poet at the table of the gods.
Life is only alive when it’s uncertain.
When it’s a mystery.
When you wake up and don’t know if the day will crown you or crucify you.
That’s the adventure.
That’s the pulse.
That’s what makes the blood burn.
So fuck safety.
Fuck “waiting.”
Fuck “timing.”
I don’t want to crawl toward some calculated ending.
I want to sprint into the unknown, laughing.
Let the heart lead.
Let the chaos swallow me.
Let destiny roll its dice.
Because I wasn’t born to play it safe.
I was born to make my life a wild adventure —
a story so insane that even death sits back, smirking, waiting to see how it ends.